On the surface of your skin,
I will drip lemon'd-rose oil
in the mirror of your favourite
constellation. My hands, these

fingers, will ease it deeply into
your chest, your limbs until
your inner sinews taste the
citrus. In the silence of the night,

when I hide my mouth in the
shadow of your neck, the blood
pumping to your brain will
whisper to me of your night

terrors haunted by petals. Your heart
blooms nervous stems that I pick